


Tara Bad

by Highlander_II



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s05e06 Family, F/M, POV First Person, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-19
Updated: 2003-09-19
Packaged: 2017-10-02 00:24:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Highlander_II/pseuds/Highlander_II
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU version of certain events stemming from "Family" and proceeding through "The Gift," but following canon, as it appeared on the series, with respect to everything else and ending in such a way that the events of Season 6 could occur as they did onscreen with few repurcussions. Spike and Tara-centric.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer**: Characters belong to Joss Whedon and are property of Kuzui/Kuzui Entertainment, Mutant Enemy Productions, WB, UPN, FOX etc. etc.

She's here again, kneeling on the floor, her head buried in my lap, doing the most amazing things with her mouth. I mean, I hit her in the face and she gives me head. Who knew? I only hit her just the once - helped prove she wasn't a demon. Damn. Could have been fun having a demon in the Scooby gang to talk to, but this is almost as good - maybe better.

Don't even ask how I'm able to form coherent thoughts in the middle of all this. 'Less you take into account the fact that she's been here almost every night since I hit her. I don't get this witch. Thought she played for the other team. Guess she could be - what did that idiot vamp call it? - a switch hitter. I don't understand baseball. Doesn't matter really, think I got the better end of this bargain. What's my part of it again? Oh yeah, sit and enjoy… mostly.

"Mmmmm, love," I sigh and push my fingers through her hair, tugging a little, just enough so there's resistance as she moves. She doesn't like pain much - can't imagine why not. Or maybe she hasn't experienced the right pain. Might have to initiate her. For now, just this. This, which is very nice. How a lesbian learned to give head so well, I will never know. And I am _not_ complaining.

Until she stops. Hey now, wasn't finished there, love. I growl, it's the best I can do under the current circumstances.

"I'm s-sorry, Spike," she says, her head low, hair falling forward, hiding her face.

"What's wrong, love?" I ask with an exasperated sigh.

She's quiet for a moment, just staring at the floor, or my feet, or my dick. Whatever. What is wrong with her? She suddenly decide she wants to be a full-time lesbian again? Suddenly, she raises her head and looks right at me. "Nothing. I w-want to try s-something else."

"Yeah?" I ask with surprise. Thought she didn't want to do other 'stuff' with me. Not complaining about this either. "What'd you have in mind?"

She had never wanted me to use anything but my fingers to get her off - which I never understood, I have other body parts much more adept. But, if she's up for something 'new,' I'm game. Haven't had a good shag, hell, haven't had a shag at all, since Harmony stormed out three days ago. Hey, for a vampire, that's a long time, especially as I'm not burdened with a soul like the poof.

She swallows and takes a deep breath, then tucks a lock of hair behind her left ear. "Well, I thought, maybe," she glances to the floor again and her hair falls free from her ear, "if you promise not to hurt me…."

"Pet, are you saying you want to shag?"

She looks up again with a frown. "I don't want to dance. I don't know how to shag anyway."

I laugh, have to. Though I never figured she was _that_ innocent, but one can never tell, now can one? "No, love. Not dancin'."

"Oh." She pauses a moment, then, "Oh," as she realizes what I meant. "That, yes, that is what I was saying."

"Well, you okay with doing it here? Or, you wanna go somewhere else?" Although I am quite comfortable in m'chair, I could move someplace else, just not very far.

She's staring at the floor again. "Here is okay, I guess." So unsure. I just don't get her.

"You ever done this before? I mean, sex with a guy?" I ask, just covering some bases here - ooh, a baseball reference again - where did I pick these up?

She nods. "Once. In high school. After the prom."

"Doesn't sound like you liked it much. Something happen?"

"I just think I w-wasn't ready. Or, m-maybe he d-didn't know what he w-was doing."

Honestly, the second part of that is probably more the truth than the first part. I have a feeling little-miss-blonde-witch was very much ready. Like now. I can smell her arousal from here, well, I could smell it if she was on the other side of the cemetery, but that's not the point. She's ready now. She's said so. And she knows I am. Of course, I'm always ready. Again, not the point.

"Love, come here." I pull her to her feet and direct her so she's sitting on my lap, facing me, her knees bent, hands on m'shoulders. I push her skirt up to her waist, the long flowing skirt with more fabric than she really needs. Why can't she just wear normal clothes? She shudders as my fingers brush over her warm skin. Oh, so warm. One of the best things about humans - body heat. Her body tenses, her fingers grip tight on my shoulders and I haven't even touched any of the sensitive areas yet. She's not wearing panties - her choice, not my request (and you won't hear me complaining on that point either) - and she's so close to me. It's intoxicating. "Ready?" I ask.

She leans forward, her forehead against mine, and whispers, "What do you think?" Then presses her lips against mine. Never done that before when she was here. Very nice.

I grin at her response to my question and lift her up and slide her willing body into place. She shifts her legs a bit, throwing her feet over the arms of the chair and sliding forward. She wraps her arms around my neck, leveraging against my strength, using it to move against me. Enthusiasm has its merits. Thought she said she'd only done this once before? Don't know where she picked this up, but it's working, so I'm not gonna interrupt. I keep my hands on her back, she's thrashing around so much she'd fall to the floor otherwise.

She's moaning and whispering things at me. I have no idea what she's saying exactly, but it sounds damn sexy. Her breathing has increased and my dead, vampire body mimics her rhythm - weird habit, but humans seem to prefer it. I used to use it to keep intended victims from realizing they'd made a fatal error by allowing such intimate contact, now, it's just habit, like smoking. She pulls on my neck and presses her mouth to mine, then bites my lip, drawing little beads of blood that she sucks onto her tongue, then passes back to me as she explores the intricate details of the inside of my mouth.

I'm not sure if I should be afraid that she does some of these things that I never figured she even knew about or just sit and enjoy it. What the hell am I saying? The snarky voice at the back of my head starts to scream: "Enjoy this. It probably won't happen again!" And, being the smart vampire that I am, I listen to it. This really is quite nice. I imagine she either has some familiar toys or she's done this more often than she said. Or she and Willow have a bit more of a kinky side than I'd thought.

"Spike," she moans, tightening her grip, only now it's on my hair and not my neck. She rocks hard one more time and her body shudders with her climax, pulling me along for the ride. The release is amazing, better than her usual tactics. I might have to sire her as my playmate. Although, I'd have to find a way to keep her around so she can bring me goodies to eat. Of course, making her a vampire would eliminate that lovely body-heat part, but there would be some other perks… and she's moaning something in my ear again.

"What's that, love?" I ask, a little dizzy, but sated.

"Your turn," she repeats, or at least, I guess that's what she did. I couldn't understand what she'd said the first time.

"My turn for what?"

"To do the work. You up for it?" She pulls on my neck and leans back toward the floor. She's gonna fall.

I know what she's on about though, and I'm always willing to oblige. "Love, you wanna lay on the floor, or you want me to get the blanket. It's just over there." I point to the concrete bier on the other side of the crypt that is the current home of my trusty blanket.

Panting, she pulls herself back to a more-or-less upright position and points to the blanket. "Get it. Hurry back." She shoves her tongue into my mouth when she kisses me and gets off my lap, her skirt falling back over her legs.

I push from the chair and snatch the blanket, then toss it to the floor, where it lands about as flat and spread out as it could get. Before I can even move, she's on the floor, on her back, slowly drawing her skirt up her legs. I kneel on the floor between her ankles, put my hands on her knees and push her legs apart, crawling forward, slowly, following her skirt. Halfway up her thighs, she stops, the skirt revealing only most of her legs. She reaches out with her hands to shove my jeans off my hips and down my legs; she has to sit up to push them the rest of the way off, and she bites into my shoulder, nipping the skin and making me bleed. I can smell the blood and her and me and the damned dust.

"I hate this skirt," I tell her and take sections of it in my hands and pull hard. The fabric tears in a satisfying rip, separating in a long slit from the hem to the waist. She gazes at me in shock, but only leans forward to bite into my skin again. With the skirt out of the way, I have access to most of her body. Her shirt is open already and I only need to move her bra out of the way, no problem, that'll tear too. I take a deep breath to remind me why she's here and lean forward, taking one rosy nipple into my mouth. She's decided to let me play and play I’m gonna.

She's managed to get my jeans off my legs - fortunately for her, I'd had my boots off when she stopped by - and she's digging her fingers into my ass, trying to make me move where she wants me. She told me it was my turn, which means my rules. My pace. I'll get to what she wants in a little bit; for now, I'm going to play. I move to her other breast and slide my left hand down to her waist, holding her, tracing my fingers over her skin, listening to her whimper beneath me because she wants me to stop teasing.

Teasing is fun, but so is this: "Tell me what you want, pet," I say, resting my chin on her breastbone so she can see my face, but not quite reach me.

"You. I thought that was obvious," she pants, putting her hands on my head, trying to pull my face to hers. I resist.

"Well, yeah. That is, but what do you want me to do to you?" I want her to say it. I want her to tell me all the nasty, naughty things she wants to do, she wants me to do. I want her to blush at the thought that she's admitting that she wants me to do things to her and that she actually has to tell me. But, I want her to tell me. I want her to beg me to do what she wants.

I'm not disappointed; she blushes from breast to cheek, so red it almost looks like sunburn. I'm not sure why she's so embarrassed about this, she's been sucking my dick for the last week and just fucked me, not sure how much more naughty she can get. I wait for her to say something.

"I w-want you to, um…" she looks away, breathing hard, then whispers, "fuck me," so softly, normal human ears would never have heard it.

"What was that, love?" I prompt.

She takes a deep breath and looks down at me. "Fuck me, Spike. I want you to fuck me."

"Yeah, I can do that. Anything else?" I ask, placing a kiss in the valley between her ample breasts.

"Just start with that," she pants, bucking her hips up toward me. "Please. Now." She grabs my hair - why does she like doing that? It kind of hurts, not that I mind the pain so much, but she's gonna yank out all m'hair - and pulls, again trying to drag my head closer to hers. This time I let her and press my mouth to hers, probing at her lips with my tongue until she grants me entrance. Good girl.

I pull away sharply, an unpleasant thought floating into my head. Frowning down at her, I ask, "You sure you're not gonna run off and tell your mates about this?"

"Huh?" she gasps, blinks, then stares up at me. "What? Why? Uh, can we talk about this later?" She starts sliding her hands around my hips, but my sudden growl makes her stop.

"I really don't fancy a staking because you scrambled off to rat me out. Tell 'em I did all sorts of nasty, evil things to you."

"Spike, I'm not gonna tell. Promise." She reaches out with her tongue to lick at my lips. "Come on. Do this and then you can ask me anything you want." Her hands start creeping again, this time I let them. Such delicate hands, so gentle, so insistent.

I lower my head to her ear and whisper, "My turn, love. Let go." Her hands release and slide around my hips and up my back; her fingernails digging into my shoulderblades. I growl and push into her. She bucks her hips against mine and pulls my head down for a kiss. It's all animal - full of fire and passion and need and want, nothing even resembling compassion or caring or love. This is all lust and desire. Fine by me, this kind is more fun anyway.

She hitches her legs up and wraps them around my waist, pushing her hips up again. Her breathing is hard and erratic and hot on my skin. I plant my hands on the floor on either side of her head and push up, separating our upper bodies by a few inches and she whimpers, scrabbling at my chest and shoulders and arms and neck, trying to pull me back to her. I flash my demon face at her and she grabs my biceps and holds tight. Very tight - almost painfully so. She's close, so close. Can't say I'm that far m'self.

Her scream rattles through the crypt and my ears. I growl with her scream and lower my fangs to her neck, but I don't pierce her skin. I hadn't even noticed that my face had shifted back to demon during all of that. And I'm quite surprised the chip in my head didn't fire when I leaned so close. I push that aside for the moment and wait for her grip to release. I lift my head away from her neck, but she grabs my head - letting go of my arms - and pulls me back down. "Do it, Spike. Bite me."

"No," I growl and get to my feet in the most fluid motion I've ever been able to manage outside a fight. I need a cigarette, but devil knows where I put the sodding things. What the hell is going on here?

"What's wrong?" she asks, resting on her elbows, her knees bent, casual.

"What are you?" I ask, staring down my nose at her.

She frowns and sits up, wrapping her arms around her knees. "What do you mean?"

"I could have bitten you before you asked me."

"No," she counters.

I nod. "Yes. I nearly did. The chip didn't activate. Which means one of two things…"

"I'm p-part demon," she says softly, turning her head away from me.

I can only stare at her in shock. I mean, yeah, that was one of the 'things' I thought it might be, but the other was that she wanted me to bite her all along, the sex was just a pre-show. Though, if she had just wanted me to feed off her, she didn't need to go through all the sex play. I would have, well, probably would have done it if she'd just asked. Thoughts are flying everywhere in my head. I can't believe it. How'd she fool the chip? I don't understand. "Love, what did you do?"

She's just staring at me now, like I have two heads or something. I try again. "Love, what did you do to trick the chip into believing you are human? How'd you do that?"

"Oh." She blinks and shies away a bit, then turns back and explains, "I did a glamour. It was s-something fast. The first spell didn't go well, as you know. Then my dad stormed in and I had to think fast."

"Why'd you do it? I mean, aside from not likin' your folks much…."

"I didn't want to leave. Willow." She blushes and turns away a moment. "And, I-I knew they w-were gonna do something. Didn't know that you were g-gonna hit my nose, but s-something. So, I drew up the glamour. It, uh, it must've been stronger than I thought, ya know? Because it set off your chip."

"Yeah, got that part, love. Was on the receiving end of the zap." I kneel beside her and take her chin into my hand. "I've gotta ask, pet. Is that why you’ve been coming by here nearly every night?"

She turns away, blushing beyond red. "Partly. I think."

"Okay, blackmail. So, what's the other part?"

"I don't know." She tilts her head to one side, watching me, then leans forward to kiss me, but I pull back before she reaches my lips.

"Gotta be something. I don't think you're in love with me, what with you being a lesbian and all."

"No. It's not that. I mean, yeah, I am. And I love Willow, but there's something. Deep inside. I can't describe it really, but it draws me here. To you. It's a little creepy."

"Thanks. At least I still scare somebody."

"Yeah. Really, i-it does sort of sc-scare me." She drapes the shreds of her skirt modestly around her legs. "That first night I came by, I tried to make myself turn around and go home a dozen times, but my body wouldn't cooperate, you know? I couldn't control where I was going. And when I ended up here and you answered the door, I almost cried, I was so scared."

Hell, coulda fooled me. When she knocked on m'door and I opened it that first night, she didn't look like she was gonna cry, she just looked up at me and said, straight out, 'I wanna suck your dick.' Startled the hell out of me. I had to ask her about a hundred times if she was sure. I'd never heard the little witch say anything like that before, to anyone, much less to me. I really wanted to tell her 'no,' but m'body had other ideas and when she saw, she wasn't gonna leave until she was finished.

"Spike?" she leans forward, brushing my hair back over my head, smoothing it down - or trying to.

"Sorry, love. Mind wandered." I look at her, watch her. Her movements are so smooth, so delicate. "What kind of demon are you, pet?"

She shrugs. "I don't know, exactly. But I obviously get along really well with horny vampires."

I frown and snarl. "You seeing other vampires?"

She bursts into a big smile and laughs. Good, she got it. I wasn't trying to scare her. It was a joke. "Just you."

"Good. I don't like to share. Well, guess I gotta share with Red, but that's it."

"I could see if she wants to join us." She immediately slaps a hand over her mouth, then mutters from behind it, "Where the hell did that come from? Oh, God. I don't want to do that. Or, I don't think I want to."

I laugh. She's so, I don't want to say naïve, but still a bit innocent. "Love, it's okay. I don't think Red'd be interested anyway. Speaking of, maybe you should run on back now. Before she gets really worried."

She gets up from the floor and looks at her clothes, then at me. "I don't suppose you have something I can wear."

I frown. "Got a T-shirt. Jeans. Don't know if they'll fit, but you can try." I start toward the hole in the floor. "I think Harm might've left something. Lemme check." I drop down into the 'basement' of m'crypt and dig through the box labeled 'Harm's shit' and drag out a skirt - very tacky - and a white button-down shirt. Don't know if these will work, but better than what she has on now, I guess. I climb back up and hold the clothes out to her. "This is pretty much it. Sorry, love."

"No, it's okay. Might be hard to explain why I'm dressed like a tramp, but if I’m lucky, Will'll be asleep when I get back." She puts on the clothes that don't come anywhere near fitting well. They aren't very flattering either - the skirt is too short and the shirt a little too tight, which would be sexy if she wasn't so shy.

I can't let her walk home like that. I drop back down again and grab a T-shirt - I only have black ones - and give her that to try instead. It doesn't match the skirt at all, but it works better than the other one. "You sure you don't want me to drive you back? It'd save you the awkwardness."

"No. I'm okay. Thanks." She turns and walks toward the door.

"Tara," I call and wait for her to turn around before continuing, "you don't have to come back here anymore. I won't tell your friends about your secret."

She nods once, then turns again to leave, pulling the door closed behind her with a thud.

It's dark and lonely in the crypt. And it smells of sex and sweat and blood and dust and her. She didn't take her torn clothes with her. I don't know why. I find her shirt tucked under a corner of the rumpled blanket. It's still in one piece - all of the buttons attached. Why hadn't she grabbed it? Did she need a reason to come back?

I sit on the blanket, naked, her shirt in one hand, a recently located cigarette in the other, adding that smell to the others in the crypt. The strongest is her. It's on her clothes, on the blanket, on my chair, on me. Everywhere. It's making me want her. Want her here. Her warmth, her smell, her hands, her mouth - I'm selfish and I want her for me, since I can't have what I really want.


	2. Part II

Sodding, buggering, bitch Slayer. And why the bloody hell did Harmony come back? Yeah, she's tryin' to help, but she's gettin' in the way. However, she had vacated the crypt when I got back from sitting with the Slayer. Was gonna blow her head off - the Slayer not Harm- but something's going on and she looked really upset, all weepin' and cryin'.

"What are you planning to do with that?" the ever-more-familiar female voice asks from a dark corner of my home.

"Put it away. Unless you wanna play with it, love." I hold the sawed-off shotgun out to her.

She shakes her head, blonde hair wisping around her face, as she walks toward me.

"What then, love?" I study her as she glides across the floor. Her dress is long and billowing - she needs to find some new styles - filmy fabric, low neckline.

Sidling up very close, she wraps an arm around my neck, her hand presses against the back of my head, and pulls me in for a kiss. Her other hand travels down my arm and taps against my knuckles until I put the gun down - not safe, but what she's doing is so much better. Sod the gun.

I had told her that she didn't need to come by anymore. I had thought she was gonna take advantage of that offer, but she returned the next night and every night since then. A couple nights, I'd had to find creative ways to get Harmony to take a long walk, but she's about the stupidest bint this side of the Atlantic, so she usually does what I say, if I manage to say it just right and make the right promises with it. But blondie-witch came to m'crypt each night. Some nights, back to basics, others she was jumpin' me before I could get the door open. I'm still not sure why she's doing it. She claims it's the demon part of her, but if that's the only thing drawing her to me, why doesn't she find a way to vanquish her demon side?

And why is this botherin' me so much? Slayer. Right. Red too. Either one of 'em found out what Blondie and I been up to, don't think there'd be much of me left to worry about.

"Bloody hell!" I snap at the harsh tug to my short hair and snatch her wrists in my hands, a bit too tight because the sodding chip fires and my brain is burning. I howl in pain and clutch my head - which, of course, leaves her hands free to do whatever she'd like. And how did the sodding chip activate anyway? She put that glamour up again?

"Spike?" she asks timidly, backing away toward the corner where she'd started. "I-I'll just g-go if you think that w-would be best."

I look up at her - don't know when I fell to my knees, musta been when the chip went off - and fight down a snarl. I close my eyes and say, through clenched teeth, "No."

"No, what? No, don't go, or no, don't stay?" She takes a couple steps toward me.

I sigh and push to my feet. "Know what? I don't know what's best, love. I'm thinking that this - whatever this is - with us is probably not the best idea, but you come to me anyway. You say it's the demon, but I've never heard of any kind of demon that has to get its rocks off by shagging chipped vampires. I _do_ know that if your little Scooby friends ever find out about this, I'll be the pile of dust formerly known as Spike." I've scared her back to the dark corner. She should build up that confidence; wilted flowers are nice, but interaction and fighting back is more fun to play with.

Her head low, her hands by her sides, she seems to be trying to disappear into the darkness. "I'm sorry," she mumbles without stutterring. "I'll just go. Leave you alone. You won't see me again beyond Scooby stuff." She starts for the door and I don't know what to do.

"Tara-" she turns to me when I say her name, "-do what you like." I fall into my green chair and grab a nearby bottle. I take a swig and nearly gag, spluttering and spitting the vile stuff all over the floor as I stand up. I stare menacingly at the bottle - I’m sure it's very frightened now - then throw it against the wall. Of course, now I wish I hadn't, as the foul smell of week-old blood is permeating the room and the shit is congealing on the wall. It's really disgusting.

I turn around and she's standing right beside me, a hand on my shoulder. "A-are you okay?" she asks. God, why is she like that? Concern for all, living or dead.

"Bloody great." I wipe the back of my hand over my mouth, still trying to get that vile goop off my tongue. I search around for a new bottle, find one, inspect it thoroughly - sniff the contents, swish it around, sniff it again, check the label - this bottle actually has one - pour a small amount onto my tongue. It tastes okay - like single-malt Scotch - so I pour it down my throat - still trying to get the week-old blood taste out of my tastebuds.

I suck down more of the Scotch, then I have to ask, "What is wrong with Slayer's mum?"

Tara stares at me in wide-eyed amazement or something, like she's afraid because I might know something.

"What?" I ask.

"H-how do you know s-something's wrong?" she asks in return, her cheeks blushing, I can almost feel the nervous heat from here.

"Saw her tonight. She looked upset. Only thing ever gets her like that is her mum, now Angel's not around." I look away, drink from the bottle again.

Tara swallows and puts a hand on my shoulder. "We don't know. She's supposed to go for tests tomorrow. Guess we'll know more then."

I nod. Wish I knew what to do. Tara pushes me into my ugly green chair (which is quite comfortable even if it is hideous) and kneels facing me. She leans in like she's going to kiss me, but brushes past my lips, licking just below my left ear before nipping my earlobe, then sliding her delicate tongue along my jawline to kiss my chin. Slowly, she makes her way to my mouth and kisses me - softly, tenderly, so different from what she has been doing. She takes my drink away, I groan as she puts it aside, then she pushes her slender fingers through my hair and presses light, feathery kisses all around my face.

"What do you want me to do?" she asks, her voice thick and soft.

If I had a heart that beat, it would have leapt out of my chest. God, I never expected her to ask me that or anything near it. This is very nice. She's attending to nearly every inch of skin on m'face, but…

"You should probably go," I say, my voice very quiet.

She shakes her head at me. "Not until I know you're okay."

"Tara, just go. Red'll be wondering where you got off to…"

"Did I do something wrong?" she asks, her face full of concern, her fingers hitting the right pressure points over my skull.

I put a hand on her cheek. "No, love, you did everything right. But, please, just go."

"If that's what you want." She kisses me again, lingering much longer than she ever has before, then slides off the chair. "I wish I could tell you more about Joyce, but that's all I know."

I watch her go; her skirts swishing around her feet; her hips swaying back and forth… All she knows? What was that about? She didn't tell me anything… or… hey! She must have shoved information into my head or something because there is stuff in there about Joyce now that wasn't there before…

Her wedding anniversary - her birthday - the big sale next week at the gallery - and - oh no -- no - that can't be - I wonder if she's told Buffy? I mean - yeah, Buffy told me her mom was goin' to hospital tomorrow, but not why. I don't think Buffy knows that part. But how did Tara? How did she know that? How could she? What kind of demon is she anyway?

_God my head hurts._ I get out of the chair and stumble down to m'bed and pass out.


	3. Part III

"You know, Spike, one of these days Riley's gonna get the upper hand on you," Tara says, sifting her fingers through my hair.

"And do what?" I ask, looking up at her from my comfortable position on the floor with my head in her lap. "Ponce doesn't stand a chance. He wasn't gonna singe me anyway - I had too much information."

She half-glares at me. "You know he'd kill you if he had the chance. He wouldn't need a reason. You're a vampire. That's all he needs." Her fingers were still in my hair. I don't know why she likes doing that. I don't hate it, so, no reason to tell her to stop. And, she seems much less nervous around me if she can reach m'hair.

"Uh huh," I mutter and close my eyes, I'm more than ready to just fall asleep, right now. If she keeps rubbin' m'head and combin' through m'hair, I will be asleep soon.

She seems content to just keep petting me like a cat. She did call me a tiger the other night.

"Spike," she begins and waits for me to open my eyes and look at her, "i-if you're l-lusting after Buffy, w-why do you…" she trails off and I sit up, turning to face her.

"Let you come here and play your little game?" I fill-in.

"Um, yeah. I guess."

I shrug. "I don't know."

"Harmony not enough company for you?" she snaps boldly and I'm not sure if it's her or the demon talking now.

"Stupid bint has her uses."

"So, why do you keep me around?"

I blink, slowly. "You, are much more attentive." I grab her head and pull her in for a kiss. She fights, but only for a moment, then she nearly knocks me over getting into m'lap.

Frisky little minx. Okay, now that we're both felines of some form… oooh, brain shut down, function on instinct now.

Actually, that's not entirely true. If I function wholly on instinct, there would be no more Tara, which would lead to no more me, so, some higher brain functions have to stick around for a little while. I don't seem to need to be doing much, though. Tara's kind of taken over the show here and she's doing quite a fine job of it. Who am I to stand in her way? Not that I could stand now if I wanted to.

"Spike," she hisses, clamping her hands behind my neck, rocking hard and it's all I can do to keep us from toppling over and one of us cracking a head. I feel her body relax and she slumps against my chest. Then, as though suddenly stunned, she sits bolt upright and stares me straight in the face. "Oh my God. What have I done?" she asks as she backs away from me, skittering across the floor.

"Pet, you've been doing this for a while now. Why suddenly opposed to the idea?"

She stares at the floor, twisting her hands together and trying to cover herself. I get up from the floor, her dress in my hand, walk to her and hold it out for her to take. I'm still naked, but that's nothing new anyway. She doesn't take the dress, so I'm left here just holding it.

"Do you want me to dress you?" I ask softly. She nods nervously. I take a few steps forward and place a hand on her shoulder. Crushing the fabric in one hand, I slide the hand I put on her shoulder along her neckline to cup her face and kiss her. She's so sweet and shy, but full of a passion that I'm not sure she's even aware of. "Do you want to go?"

She shakes her head and slides her arms around my neck, crushing her lips to mine, nipping at my lips and tongue. She presses herself so hard against me, it's like she's trying to meld us into one being - which, ew. Bad mental image there.

I pull her hands away from my neck. "Love, I think you should get back. Red's gonna wonder about you."

She nods her head and takes her dress. Turning away from me, she slides the garment over her head and arms and straightens it, smoothing it into place. She turns back to me and, with her head low, walks to the door and takes her leave.


	4. Part IV

It's been kinda lonely 'round here lately. Oh, sure, Tara's been by, but not as often as before. And when she's been here, it's been rough and tumble, quick and dirty. Not that I mind, but sometimes you get used to things being a certain way.

There's been some excitement though. Nasty demon from somewhere else, crashed here in an asteroid or something and tried to eat Slayer's mum. Nasty bugger, he was. Captain Cardboard took off. That was fun to learn. He and Slayer had a face-off, I expect. Then, Red lets loose a troll on Sunnydale. Now, I like demons and monsters as much as the next guy who likes to beat things up, but even _I'm_ not takin' on a troll. Turns out this troll was Anya's ex. Interesting choice in companions there.

"Spike?" a quiet voice floats through the crypt from m'door. It's Little Miss Muffett. Hope she didn't bring curds and whey. Can't stand that stuff - it always looked like curdled milk. Dru used to eat it or play in it, but I never touched the stuff.

"'Lo, love. Back to play, are we?"

She smiles and blushes bright red. I love that. Makes her look so innocent, when I know she's not. "D-did the W-Watchers come talk t-to you today?"

I nod. "Yeah, they did. Brought a cross and everything." I frown.

She laughs. It's nice. Real nice. And this is gettin' harder to deal with each time she comes here. I want to send her away, but then that twinge in the back of my head that reminds me how damn lonely it is here when no one's around starts to 'twinge' and I just pull her close and stuff my tongue down her throat.

I feel hands on my chest, pushing me away and realize that I actually am sticking my tongue down her throat. I let her go and take a step backwards, but she pulls me back, holding me.

"Spike, what are we doing? What is this to you?" she asks.

I was so hoping this conversation wouldn't come up - ever. "I don't know, pet. What do you want it to be?"

"Over," she says with no commitment to the word. "I mean, I like you. But, I don't even think I'd be here if not for the demon side of me being severely attracted to you."

Schizophrenic comes to mind. "Love, I told you, several times, that you don't have to come here. And that you don't have to do anything if you do."

She hangs her head, staring at the floor as she backs away. I put a hand under her chin and raise her head so her eyes meet mine. "Tara, do you want to leave?"

She shakes her head.

"Do you want to kiss me?"

She nods and reaches up to kiss me. I don't stop her. She can do whatever she wants.

"Take off your clothes," she commands in a breathy voice, so sultry and full of lust that I have little choice but to obey, because I like this command. So, I take m'clothes off and wait for whatever she has planned next.

Her warm fingers crawl over my cool skin, tickling, teasing, pinching. She leans forward and slides her tongue from one nipple to the other, taking time to nip at each with her teeth before grazing her tongue over my skin, up my neck and behind my ear. If she keeps doing things like that, I'm never letting her leave.

"Want you. Now," she growls, primal and aggressive.

"I'm all yours, love. Do what you like. 'Cept kill me."

She throws me to the ground - hit m'head on the floor, hurt a little, I'll live - and straddles my hips. She's got me pinned down pretty good and she's teasing, licking at my lips and down my neck, sucking at my throat. It's exhilarating.

"Please, don't stop," I whisper at her and she cackles and grinds her hips against mine - she's still dressed, not fair.

She shoves my hands over my head and gives me a look that tells me I'm not to move them until she says so. Shit, I think I can do that. Her fingernails dig into my arms as she slides her hands back to my shoulders and down my chest. Love this. Aggressive women are so much fun.

I growl low in my throat and she tilts her head and frowns at me.

"Why are you growling, love?" she asks in a decent imitation of my voice. "Don't you like this?" And she grinds her hips against me again. Very much not fair.

"Love it." I growl again and she moves again. Bloody hell. "Don't stop," I tell her.

A wicked grin flashes over her face and she pulls at my arms, directing them toward her panties. Hope she doesn’t try to break my arms if I do the wrong thing here. I tuck my fingers around the waistband, ready to pull them down her legs, but she growls at me and I stop. I can't believe she growled at me. Nice. Wish I knew what she wanted though.

She leans close to my ear and whispers, "Tear them off."

That's new. Actually, so is her decision to wear panties. Tear. I can do that. Really, my brain is more functioning along the lines of - Tara say tear. Tear now. Think later. Sod off. But, I do have to keep a few brain cells working to do this. She licks my ear and nibbles at the top of my neck. I slide my fingers along the edge of her panties and pull hard; they separate from her body in a long, slow rip.

She moans against my neck, her breath warm and moist, still grinding her hips into mine. My hands come to rest on her thighs, awaiting further instruction. I'm content to just lay here and let her do what she likes as long as I get some benefit from it. I close my eyes and concentrate on the feeling of her lips and tongue over my skin - soft, warm, wet. She adds teeth at just the right places, eliciting deep moans of pleasure - hey, I know how to enjoy m'self.

"Spike," she whispers, "do it. Now."

Vague much? Come on now, I need a little more than… whoa… okay, nevermind, she's taking care of that too. She covers my mouth with hers, her tongue darting out to lick at my lips and teeth - and don’t ask me how she does that.

She rolls and moves and pants and moans and tells me to keep my hands on her hips - which I do - and nips at my face and neck until she's satisfied, then she lays her head on my chest, out of breath and smiling. Bloody hell, why's she smiling?

"Tara?"

"Huh?"

"Smiling?" So I can only choke out one word at a time, gimme a break here, just because I'm a vampire doesn’t mean I have unlimited energy.

"Shhhh," she tells me. Okay. For now. Dunno what's going on, but she's happy - at the moment - so I'll just let her be.


	5. Part V

Huh, Nibblet's the Key. Whatever that is. Suppose that's why Slayer wanted me to be all protective of her and her mum last night. That Glory chippie's all interested and wants to do something. And, of course, bitch Slayer has to come by and blame all this on me. Like I'm the one who let her sister sneak out of the house and I'm the one who wouldn't tell her anything about who she was and I’m the one who made her feel like nothing she did was ever right. Bitch. Ow! Remind me not to kick that damned bier. Thing's made of concrete. Hurts when you kick it.

"You all right?" Tara asks from the doorway. I turn around to answer, but my mouth just drops open and no words will come.

Oh my, what is she not wearing? Did she walk all the way over here like that? It's not cold in Sunny-Hell, but she would definitely be noticed wearing that. That filmy, long, black dressing gown over a black teddy - complete with garters and stockings. Very nice look on her - very much not what she usually wears. The black heels give her a couple inches in height and her hair is curled softly around her face. Did she really go to all this trouble just to come see me? Very very confusing.

"I see you like this. Take a good look, Spike, because this is the last time you'll see anything like it."

What the hell is she talking about?

"I can't do this anymore. Demon or no, I can't keep coming to you. It's over. Finished. I won't be coming back," she says plainly, stepping down the stairs into the crypt.

"You've said that before, love. I've even told you, you didn't have to come back; you come anyway. I don't believe you." Hey look, I can make my mouth hang open and function for speaking at the same time. She's bloody gorgeous.

She shrugs. "Believe whatever you want. I only came here to tell you it's done."

I frown. "So, why are you dressed like that?" I nod at her, her clothing - or lack thereof.

"I don't know. Maybe to prove that I can dress however I want and still be strong enough to walk away. Or because I wanted to know if I could still get through this - tell you it's over - even though I'm totally turning you on. I d-don't know." The stutter she had nearly learned to control was slipping back in, just a little. She's losing some of her control.

This is unbelievable. For the last several weeks, she's come to me almost every night. All because she doesn't want all of her friends to know she's a demon. Or part demon. Sonofabitch. "No," I say.

"No? What does that mean?" She frowns and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Means, no. You're not going. I won't let you."

"You can't force me to stay with you. You know that."

"I'll tell your friends about your little secret," I snap. She's really making me angry. What the hell is she doing? She shouldn't come here dressed like that and decide that this whole thing, that she started, is finished.

"Tell them. I don't care anymore." She flinches, just a little, almost imperceptible, but I can see it.

"Oh, you care. It's why the little wheels in your head are still turning, trying to think up a reason to stay."

"No. I'm really not. I'm going to go and you know you can't stop me. And you know why. This is for the best, Spike. It's not healthy - me sneaking around on Willow, sleeping with a vampire. The stress is going to kill me."

"Just get the hell out!" I yell, startling her. She turns and runs out of the crypt, tripping on the top step, but not falling. I slam the door shut behind her and pound my fist against it until it bleeds. Bloody - sodding - stinking - fucking hell!

Shit. No, not because she's gone. Because I sodding let her in. Let her get to me. Fuck.


	6. Part VI

"You son of a bitch!" Tara stomps into _my_ home and starts poking her finger at me. She better watch it or I'll bite it off. "How could you possibly do something like that?" she shrieks at me.

I scowl and glare at her.

"Please don't tell me you're going to blame this on me. Because I had nothing to do with this. I didn't tell you to do that. I would never…"

"Shut up. I don't owe you anything. Not an explanation. Not an apology. Nothing. What I do on my own time is up to me. You don't like it, you can get the hell out!"

She tries very hard to match my scowl - good luck, Blondie. "You are an evil bastard."

"That's what _I've_ been trying to tell people for YEARS! Nice to know someone's finally listening!"

She stalks around the crypt, flashing glances at me from across the room. "Why are you so angry? What the hell prompted that little stunt the other night?"

I blink. "E-V-I-L," I spell out pointing to myself. "What part of that are you people not understanding?"

She shakes her head. "No. I think it's something else. You've been helping us out for a while. Then you do something like this? What is really going on with you?"

She wants to know what's going on? Yeah, sure. I'm going to tell her that I've been miserable since she decided to stop visiting me? That it's been horribly lonely here, 'cept the few times Nibblet's stopped by? Not a chance in hell. I stalk across the floor toward her.

"What are you…." She's pushing against my chest, hard, trying to force me away from her. I'm not trying to hurt her, just, hell, I don't know. "Spike, let me go." Her voice is firm, unwavering, but not violent or angry. "Spike, please. I don't want to be here. Not with you."

"So, you just came to kick me like everyone else, huh?"

"No." She lowers her eyes. "I shouldn’t have come here angry. That was wrong. But, Spike," she raises her eyes to mine again, "you shouldn't do things like that. Kidnapping Buffy?"

I let her go and back away. "Whoa. What do you mean 'kidnap'? There was no kidnapping. She came here all on her own. Drusilla stunned her with a cattle prod."

"And you didn't stop her?"

"Stop Drusilla? Funny." I turn away and look for my recently misplaced bottle of Scotch. Finding it, I twist the cap off and take a pull from the bottle. "I stunned Dru, though. Tied 'em both up."

"Spike?"

"I just wanted her to listen to me. Talk to me. Like you do. Or did." I turn around again and she has this look of hurt on her face. "Don't."

"Don't what?" she asks, calm, almost weary.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm a lost puppy that you have to shelter. I can take care of m'self."

"I know that," she says quietly. "Spike, what's really wrong? Did I do something?"

I frown. What the hell? "Bloody well right, you did!" I shout, not really sure why, but it's how it came out. She starts and blinks at me. I just shake my head and turn away, drinking from the bottle of Scotch again.

"Okay. So, what did I do? Leave you? We weren't together. Not like Willow and I are. You knew that from the beginning. You even told me I didn't have to come here. So, why is this different? I'm confused."

She's confused? She's not the one who's supposed to be evil and a demon and killing for fun and can't because some government nits decided it was a great idea to control natural desires with a computer chip. Or, maybe she is kind of like that. "Why did you start coming here?" I ask, not looking at her. Easier this way.

"What?" she returns. Stalling for time, I expect. "You know why."

"So I wouldn't tell your mates you're part demon? Yeah. Maybe at first, but I told you I wouldn't say anything. You kept coming anyway. Why?" Still not looking at her. Might be easier for her this way too. What a pair of chickenshits we are.

"I - I don't know," she stutters.

"There has to be some reason," I say as I turn to face her, the bottle of Scotch still clutched in my hand.

She lowers her head. "I don't know. But I couldn't stop myself. Something drew me here. Most nights I didn't even want to come, but something, something inside made me walk here and be with you." And she starts to cry. Not sobs, just tears, rolling down her face, dripping to the floor, making little clean-like, wet spots at her feet.

What the hell am I supposed to do now? I can tell her to go, but she might cry more. I can ask her to stay, but that might make this even more complicated. Shit.

"I b-better… I s-should just go." She wipes a hand under her eyes. "I-I need to fix w-whatever this is." She starts for the door.

I frown. "Hold it." She turns back to me. "You're trying to do magic to get rid of whatever demon's possessed you?" Haven't they learned? Magic gets you into trouble. Thought Red learned that lesson last year and passed it on to everyone else.

"I'm n-not possessed. And, no, I'm not d-doing magic to get rid of it." She's stutterring again. "I'm… I'm just trying to keep myself under c-control. It's hard. Harder when I'm here. Spike," I look at her, her sad eyes, her tired face, she continues, "I don't want to leave you alone. I know it gets lonely here for you. But, I can't stay."

I nod. Best I can do. I know she's right. It is lonely here in this crypt. Even Harmony's company would be better than none - and I can't believe I'd ever say that. Soldier Boy would be a welcome change, even if we would spend the time fighting or commiserating. Company's company. I look her straight in the face and lie: "I'm fine. I like being here alone. No one in m'way. Run on back to your friends."

She smiles at me. Just a soft little smile before she turns to go. Dammit.


	7. Part VII

Sodding stinking bloody dumb bad luck. Sodding robot girl threw me through a window. Mind you, I'm pretty tough and can handle just about anything, but it still bloody hurt. It was a window! What the hell was that about?

I rub my neck and put the cigarette in my left hand to my lips and take a long drag. I have no idea why I smoke these things. Sure, I get a little buzz from the nicotine, but that's about it. Well, that and the 'bad boy' look.

Slayer thought it was right funny that I got tossed on m'ass, breaking a window in the process. Bitch. What is it with her, she likes to see me in pain so much? She that mean, or just sadistic?

And now, even blondie-witch isn't comin' by to see me. Hasn't been here in a few days. Harm's long gone. Damn, I'm sittin' here, alone, in the dark… when did I fail to realize it was dark? Probably about the same time I didn't realize my cigarette was gone. What the hell is happening to me?

"Spike!" a shrill voice screams from my front door.

Bloody hell. The sodding Slayer. What does she want? "What?" I moan. This is irritating.

"Have fun with that robot?" she tries very hard not to snicker at me.

"Yeah. Bloody peaches. Wish more people would toss me through plate glass windows. Bloody hell, Slayer. What do you think?"

I can hear her moving around on the step. It's still dark in here so she'll probably have trouble getting around unless I find some light. "Why are you sitting here in the dark?"

"Not sittin'."

"Standing then. Whatever. Why?" She's still again. I can hear her breathing, but she's not moving. Scared of me, are you?

"I can see." I light another cigarette and can just make out her silhouette at the door. New moon. Not even any light from outside coming in. Damn. I shift on my feet a bit. "Why are you here?"

"Was on patrol, thought I'd see if you'd been tossed around some more," she says with a smile.

"Thanks for the concern, but I think I'm good."

She shakes her head, I can just see it moving. "One more thing, stay away from me. Stay away from my sister, my friends. Just… leave us alone." She turns and stalks into the night.

What the bleeding hell was that all about? I haven't done a damned thing. Who the hell does she think she is? Heh. I'll show her. I can't have what I want, guess I'll have to get the next best thing.


	8. Part VIII

It's been really quiet around here lately. No, not at m'crypt, but yeah, it's been quiet here, I meant in town. At least as far as Slayer and friends are concerned. I think something's going on. 'Course, no one's gonna fill me in… I'm evil. I'm not allowed to know things. Sod 'em.

Time for a smoke and a spot o' blood. Maybe watch a little telly. Too bad there's nothing on but bad sit-coms. You'd figure sooner or later those network people would figure out what the good stuff is and get rid of the crap. They don't. Reality TV? Reality my ass.

Bloody hell, I just got settled. Now I gotta get up to answer the sodding door. Who the bleeding hell could be comin' to talk to me now?

I pull the sodding door open and it's… "Tara. Something wrong, love?" I ask, knowing there must be something wrong for her to look like that. She looks terrible.

She nods and takes a step forward, waiting for me to move so she can come in; I step out of her way, staying back enough to keep Mr. Sunshine from singeing my toes - there's still a little bit of daylight left - then push the door closed once she's inside. She turns to me and almost bursts into full-flowing tears before she can start telling me anything. Tears - they do it every time. I can't take it. I put my arms around her and hold her to me and just hold her, not saying anything. She'll talk when she's ready. And this is the usual Tara - not the one who comes to see me and walks over here mostly naked, no, this is the 'Real' Tara; Red's Tara; the shy girl with a stutter. She smells so clean, so fresh, like Slayer's front yard after a spring rain - all the roses and trees.

"I… I don't know h-how to t-tell you this." She looks down at her feet as she pulls away from me a little.

"You know you can tell me anything, love. Something happen to Red? Nibblet?"

She shakes her head. "No. Nothing happened to Willow or Dawn. It's…" She pauses to wipe tears from her eyes and cheeks. "Buffy's mom." She chokes back a sob and swallows hard, trying to look into my eyes without crashing into tears again.

I frown. "What about Joyce?" I ask.

Tara looks away. "She died this morning," she says, slowly lifting her eyes to meet mine again.

Complete shock. I can't move, can't speak. I have no idea what to think, much less what to say. Nothing. I feel my head moving, shaking back and forth and almost don't even realize what I'm saying as I say it… "No. She can't. No. I don't believe you."

She nods again. "It's true, Spike. Buffy found her this morning. We've been at the hospital most of the day." I hear her sniffle as she turns away from me, hiding her tears I'd expect. She doesn't need to.

"How's the Nibblet takin' it?" I ask. Need to focus on something else. Not me or Tara or Joyce. Anything else.

She shrugs. "As well as she can, I guess. I don't think Buffy's doing as well though."

I frown. "Why d'you say that? Strong. Stalwart. That's the slayer. Handles situations when they come up."

"Sure. Handles situations. But 'mom's dead' doesn't come up all that often." Tara bursts into full flowing tears again. I can't just watch her cry. Damn sappy poet in me.

"C'mere, love." I draw her close and put m'arms around her. She seems so much more fragile than before; so different.

Sniffles and small gasps and she presses her face against my chest. Poor girl. I wish I knew what to do. But, Scoobies don't want any help from me, so, guess I'm stuck doin' what I can when they want me 'round. Bloody stupid gits they are.

"Anything I can do?"

"No. No, I don't think so." She sniffles again and looks up at me. I kinda just want her to talk. She might feel better if she does. "Why are you being so nice about this?"

"'Bout Joyce dyin'?" I shrug. "I liked her. She was nice to me."

"Yeah. She was like that."

"Even when I was really evil."

Tara lets out a laugh and looks surprised that she could laugh at a time like this. "You're not supposed to make jokes."

"Wasn't. I really was more evil then. Wanted to eat all of Sunnydale, kill the slayer. The usual stuff. Joyce was nice to me. Didn't have to be. She coulda just called Buffy and had me staked. But, she gave me cocoa…"

"…with the marshmallows? Dawn's told me that story a hundred times. You tell her that?"

"Yeah. Once or twice. She thinks it's funny that I drank cocoa."

Tara shakes her head and crosses her arms across her stomach. "No. She thinks it's funny that you like marshmallows." She smiles and it's radiant. Even with the news, she's beautiful. I hate m'self for this. She just needs to go.

I quirk m'eyebrows. "Well, yeah, guess that's a bit odd." I look at the floor, then back at her. Dammit, shy moves like the poet me from long ago. "Are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah. I mean, I guess so. I don't know what to do." She sidles close to me, arms still folded, and puts her head against my chest. What is she doing? I don't move, just wait. Slowly, she unfolds her arms and slides them over my chest, my shoulders, down my arms and back up, then over my neck and into my hair.

"Tara, love," I start, but she covers my mouth with hers and everything else is lost. I don't think this is such a good idea. I pull away as much as she'll let me - not much - and close my eyes, my hands on her arms, holding her at bay. "I don't think we should do this."

"Probably not, but I need something. And you're here and…" She snakes her hands into my hair, well, tries to, I'm still holding her arms, but she reaches my hair - guess I'm not holding too tight - and sticks her tongue out, trying to taste my lips.

How the hell am I supposed to resist that? I sigh. "Tara, love, we really…" control is slipping as she finds a way to rub one leg against mine, "…really…" she's leaning forward, her breasts barely brushing against me, "…should stop…" Oh, bloody hell, there's no way I'm gonna stand a chance against this. She's kissing at my chin and jaw and pushing hard against my hands, trying to get close to me and I'm trying so hard to resist and tell her to go, but I'm having a rough go of it here.

"Just let go, Spike," she says softly. "It doesn't mean anything. Just us. Here. Comforting." Her voice is breathy and soft and sexy and her words sound so right and… Shit. This is not going well… actually, it's going quite nicely, but just… shit.

I want to just let go. Just let her do whatever she wants. Just be here with her and do this, but it just doesn't feel right. (And I think I need to use the word 'just' more.) "I can't."

"Can't what?" She's still trying to kiss me.

"I can't do this. Go back to Red." I try to push her away, but she holds on to me.

She shakes her head. "No. I don't want to. You need me. This." Shit, she's gonna cry again.

"No. I don't. I'm fine. Go on now. Before they start worrying." I push her toward the door and back away, trying to create distance. She takes the hint and climbs the few stairs to the door. Taking one quick look back at me, she nods and leaves.

Shit.


	9. Part IX

Nibblet told me her mum's funeral is tomorrow. Okay, so, she didn't exactly tell me, so much as I overheard her talking to a friend as she walked by. It's in the afternoon so I can't go. I'd like to. Joyce was nice to me. Guess I could do something though.

I’m going out.

****

That buggering ponce is a sodding poor excuse for a human being. I try to do something nice and what bloody happens? Ponce tells me I can't. Who does he think he is? Was just gonna leave some flowers for Joyce. That's it. Just flowers. Buggering ponce was all convinced I had some ulterior motive in mind. What the fuck? I just want… bugger it. Sod it. That's it. I can't take this anymore. Whatever. Sod 'em.

Sod the Scoobies. Sod the funeral. Sod 'em all. I can't take this shit from them anymore. What does it bloody take? Why do I even care? I don't bloody like the lot of 'em. I feel the incredible need to kill something.

I'm going out.

****

Yeah, so, last night's foray into the realm of killing demon things that aren't me was as eventful as paint drying. Dammit. Now I'm stuck in this bloody crypt with nothing to do until it gets dark and no one's coming to talk to me and see how well I'm taking all of this. I'm not human so I don't have feelings and don't care about anyone but m'self, eh? Well, most times, that's probably true, but I liked Joyce. Marshmallows and cocoa and whackin' me in the head with an axe aside, she was a nice lady. Matter of fact, I respect a woman who defends her children. Don't recall anyone else's parents whackin' me in the head with something thinking I was gonna kill their child. Good on her.

This is depressing. I'm gonna sleep.

****

It's dark now.

I'm going out. And how many times have I said that to m'self lately?

****

Well, what do we have here? Little girl playing in the dirt with dark magic toys nearby. "I hope it's just dirt you're after."

Scared the Little Bit, I did. She thinks I'm gonna run off and tell Buffy what she's up to. Not a chance. Got m'own little plan. "I'm not gonna tell, Little Bit. I'm gonna help."

****

Shit. Bit needed some hard-to-get stuff for that spell of hers. Had to rough and tumble with a Ghora demon to get some egg. Hope this turns out well for the Nibblet - if she even goes through with it. But after that fight to get that egg, she damned well better.

Blood and Scotch. Well that would be great, but I drank the last of the Scotch mourning the Lady Summers couple nights back, so I'm stuck with either year-old Wheatbix or beer. Guess which I'm choosing?

A timid knock at my door. Wonder who that could be. I stumble to the door, trip on the damned steps and scrape m'hand, and manage to get the bloody thing open. "'Lo, love."

Tara waves a hand in front of her face. Guess my beer-blood breath isn't very pleasant. She blinks and looks up at me. "Hi, Spike."

That's not happy-witch Tara. "Somethin' wrong, pet?" I sway, but manage to stay on m'feet. Probably shouldn't have had the whole case of beer before I started putting it in m'blood, huh?

"Wanted to see how you were doing. Obviously not very well."

"I'm fine. Wanna come in?" I swing my left arm to invite her in and end up banging m'head against the door.

"Probably should. Someone has to make sure you don't kill yourself." She steps into the crypt, helps me shut the door, then, return to m'chair. I bloody miss and end up on the floor. Good thing I wasn't holdin' m'drink at the time.

I lower my head and wrap my fingers around m'neck, elbows restin' on my knees. Then I feel her soft fingers brush over my hair and along my arm. "Spike, is this all about Joyce?"

I shake m'head. It's really not. There's more.

"What is it? You can talk to me." She kisses my head, my fingers, my ear, my cheek, any part of my face she can reach. I lift my head and she kisses away the few tears then presses her lips to mine. Soft, sweet, warm.

"Lonely," I say when she pulls away.

She gives me a hurt look. "What? Why didn't you say something?"

I chuckle and she frowns. "Say something? Funny. They don't want me around, why would they care if I needed company?"

Instead of answering, she slides herself onto my lap and kisses me. Gently pressing her lips to mine, nipping lightly, reaching with her hands to draw mine away from my neck. Sometimes she just does everything right. I really should tell her to go, but her warm body against mine is too comfortable and soothing. I want her. Want her to stay. My hands come to rest on her legs, just below her knees. Her soft skin, warm, smooth; I slide my hands under her skirt, up her legs, to her hips. She threads her fingers into my hair and just keeps kissing me - soft, sweet, firey, passionate all rolled up together. Then, she's walking her hands down my chest to my waist and unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans. A groan escapes my throat when I feel her hands…

I pull away from her kiss. "Tara, love, I don't…." She puts a finger to my lips.

"Shhh. Don't talk. Don't think." She kisses me again, her hands on my shoulders now, and moves herself into position. So soft. So warm. So nice to me. Demon side or human side - either one - and I just don't understand. She moves so gracefully; so gently. Her breathing is a smooth rhythm and her kisses are full of fire.

I wrap my arms around her and bury my face against her neck as she rocks against me. I inhale and she smells so damned good. Clean, like always, but now there's a hint of peaches or some summer fruit. Her soap or her shampoo or some body mist. Very feminine. Very Tara. Oh… please no. Please, not just Tara. The demon's one who's supposed to do this. If this is just Tara…

I feel her climax and I'm right there with her. I can't stop it. She kisses me hard, but not punishing. I try to push her away, get her off me, but she holds on and whispers to me, little things that I can't really understand, but they're soothing and comforting and I just nuzzle my nose against her warm neck and inhale again. So soft. So warm. So tired.

****

My eyes open and I'm a little confused. My arm is draped over a soft warm body… that belongs to the girlfriend of the slayer's best friend and oh, I'm in such deep shit if they find out about this. But she feels so good. I just draw her nearer, cradle m'head against her neck and go back to sleep.

Something moves against me, soft, warm, human. I roll over and open my eyes to find the blonde witch staring back at me in wide-eyed horror. Never a good sign. "Oh, God. What have I done?" she whimpers, tugging my T-shirt around her upper body.

"What?" I'm still a little groggy - too much alcohol, not enough sleep.

She looks down and sighs - seemingly in relief that there is a blanket pulled to her waist, and mine. "Spike," she says and tries to look at me, but turns away. "Spike, last night, oh dear, l-last night, it w-wasn't the demon."

"What?" the only word I can currently speak apparently. There are others in my head, but I can't get them to cross m'lips.

"Not the demon." She sits up and looks right at me, still clutching my T-shirt to her chest. "The demon didn't draw me here. The demon didn't h-have s-sex with you." Her head lowers and tears fall from her eyes. "It was all me."

"Why?" Ooh. New word.

"Huh?" She looks at me again, confused.

"Why did you come here then?" I ask, pushing myself into a sitting position.

"To see how you were doing. Dawn said she talked to you and said you seemed a little down. I wanted to help. But not this way. Willow's going to hate me." She bows her head into her hands and my shirt and starts sobbing.

Crying. Not again. "Look, love," I can't talk to her like this; with her thinking she did something horrible. "Come here." I pull her to me, my arms around her. "Pet, thank you."

"For what?" She sniffles against my chest, the T-shirt having slipped down to her waist. "Being a slut?"

Shit. Now she thinks… oh bugger. "No, love. You're not… You care too much. You helped me though."

She raises her head and sniffles again. "I did?"

I nod. "The demon could never have done what you did last night. The tender touches, the soft whispers - all the things you did and said to ease m'mind. Only Tara could do that. Not some demon inside Tara. Thank you."

"Buffy's stupid," she says. Hell, I could have told her that. "She says you can't feel. She's wrong. An unfeeling being can't do what you do. Plus, if you can't feel, then I can't feel and I know I can." Babbling Tara. She get that from Red or she just like that anyway?

"Yeah, well," I cock my head to one side. "I'm sorry you had to resort to carnal pleasures to help me."

She blushed bright red. "Why? They never bothered you before."

"Yeah, but the demon was driving then. I never touched you if the demon was dormant." I shrug. "'Cept for a few kisses."

I can see her working on that for a minute. She looks at me and tears roll down her cheeks again. "I wish I could stop it, but I don't know how."

"Tell Red. She'll fix it."

She shakes her head. "I can't tell her about this."

I almost laugh. A smile does crack m'lips though. "No, love, not about everything. Just about the demon."

"Oh. Maybe." She frowns. "But, wouldn't that mean that you wouldn't have some kind of playmate again?"

Why does she ask questions like that? If I wanted… ah hell. "Why don't you run on home, love? And stop coming by here - demon driving or not."

"But, I thought… I th-thought you were lonely?"

I shrug again. "I am, but I'll get over it." Got m'self a little present waiting for me.

The little blonde witch tugs on her clothes hastily and one shoe, then bounces around trying to find the other one. I reach under the chair and pull out her dainty, well, maybe not so dainty in size, just in appearance, feminine shoe and wave it in the air. I'm still naked and she blushes when she comes to retrieve the shoe from me. I hold onto it a little tighter than I need to keep it from her, but I want to tell her something before she scurries off.

"I meant what I said, love. Thank you."

She blinks back tears and gives me a smile. "You're welcome. I wish I could've done something better."

I give her a nod and let go of her shoe. "Bye, love."

"Bye, Spike." She puts on her shoe and darts out the door, into the bright sunlight and I'm left alone… again.

But not for long.


	10. Part X

That Warren geek did a good job on this 'bot. Walks, talks, looks like the Slayer. One minor difference - the Buffy-bot likes me. Stupid sodding slayer.

"Spike? I miss you. Are you down here?"

Came to get something, what was it? Oh yeah...

"Spike?" She's pushy. Whatever.

"Just a second, love. On m'way." I grab what I was looking for and haul m'self back up into the crypt proper. Damn. She's bloody starkers already. Guess she knows what she wants. And, well, this is how it ended yesterday, guess she's getting a jump on things. "You were supposed to wait, pet."

She pouts. "Are you mad at me?" Then she smiles. "Are you going to punish me?"

Twisted little playmate I have here, isn't she? More fun that way. "I might." I give her a sly grin and she skitters away.

I chase her around the crypt - she doesn't run very fast; she's not really trying to get away. She leaps over the concrete bier and rolls over the green armchair, turns on me and charges straight for me. I move at the last minute, but she moves with me and tackles me to the floor. We roll into the bier and she lands on top of me, kissing me. She peels my clothes off and starts licking my chest and rubbing her hands over me. I just fold my arms behind my head and relax.

She doesn't like that. She wants interaction, she pulls at my arms and rolls us so she's beneath me and I lean in and kiss her softly. I've wanted to do this for so long, I almost don't know where to begin. I sigh. Okay, yes, this is just a robot, but she's close enough. So close. She's not warm, but she's kind and gentle and attentive - oh so attentive. It's all I really want. I settle behind her, on my side, my arm draped over her.

"You're evil," she says to me.

"And that excites you?"

"It excites me, it terrifies me. I try so hard to resist you and I can't."

"Yeah?" And I have to smile.

"Darn your sinister attraction."

"Are you afraid of me?" I ask, wanting to know.

"Yes." I can tell she's smiling.

I whisper to her, "You know I can't bite you."

"I think you can. I think you can if I let you, and I want to let you. I want you to bite me and devour me until there's no more."

"Like this?" And I give her neck a little nip.

"Oh, Spike, devour me!" She always talks to me with that big smile on her face when she does or says something she knows I like. It's nice.

"All right." I shift so she's beneath me again and I'm looking right into her eyes.

"Spike, I can't help myself. I love you."

"You're mine, Buffy," I growl softly and lean in to kiss her.

"Should I start this program over?"

"Shh! No programs. Don't use that word. Just be Buffy."

Bugger. Why'd she have to say that? It kills the mood when she says things like that.

****

Well, that was a boat-load of laughs. Stupid Buffy - no, the 'bot version - wanted to go patrolling. So, fine. We go. She stakes vamps. We come back and she starts making new stakes and polishing the axe in my weapons chest. She didn't do that yesterday. What is wrong with her? Had to turn the bloody thing off for a bit. Wanker Warren. Gonna have to talk to him if this keeps up.

Good thing the 'bot's turned off and in the basement. Tara's here again.

"Something I can do for you, love?" I ask, drinking from the glass in m'hand. Blood - not warm, but nourishing. Better than having to eat rats.

She stares at the floor, then glances up at me. Guess she's not here for the sex. "Spike," she pauses and folds her arms over her chest, "I don't know why I came here," she says, shaking her head and turning to go.

"Something wrong, pet?"

"No. I'm gonna go." And she leaves. That's it. She just leaves. I really do not understand her sometimes. Most of the time.

Guess I'm gonna have to find something amusing to do with my time. Yes, time to play with my new toy.

I go wake her up and tell her to come upstairs to play... Slayer time.

****

Bollocks. This bloody sucks. Hurts like the devil too. Oh, no. No. No. No. This is so far from kinky sex… well, okay, not that far, but it's not the enjoyable kind. That Glory-bitch sent some hobbits or whatever to m'crypt to kidnap me and drag me to her posh little digs here so she could tell me I'm not the Key then proceed to torture the hell out of me to figure out who is. So, now, I'm lying here, in pain, not telling. Fortunately, I'm mostly unconscious too.

Spoke too soon. Hell bitch is back and… unzippin' the fly of m'jeans. Bugger, was so much nicer when it was Buffy - even if it was just a robot - and that was all before Harris came in and ruined the mood. Just for reference, it is not at all comfortable to lay on a bed with your hands bound behind you. M'knuckles are diggin' into my spine and she's puttin' pressure on my thighs, pushin' my hips down harder onto m'hands. Little pain never bothered me before, it's just more fun when both parties are agreeable to the act.

"You're gonna tell me who the Key is. You know that, don't you?" she growls at me, tracing long, dangerous fingernails up my leg and into my pants. Shit. I clench my teeth and close my eyes. She can't make me tell her anything. "Precious," she purrs with a hiss on the 's', "I just want you to tell me this one little thing. Then I'll let you go." She wraps her fingers around my dick and gives a squeeze - not painful, but not really pleasant. Of course, that doesn't mean I can control what's going on down there. Damn thing has a mind of its own.

"I'm not tellin' you anything," I snarl, trying to keep the involuntary moan from escaping my throat when she strokes me. Bloody hell, that is so not fair.

"Oh, I think you will," she says as she leans down, close to m'crotch and I can't watch her anymore. I close m'eyes and turn m'head away from her. This is so bloody wrong. "Now, now, Precious." She reaches up and latches onto m'chin, yanking my head back to center, forcing me to look at her. "You're supposed to observe, Precious. Watch me. What I do. And tell me who the Key is." She stretches up and licks across m'lips, then tries to choke me with her tongue down my throat. Don't breathe, bitch, you can't choke me. Then she's kissing me like we're supposed to be lovers or something. She is one twisted bitch.

"Get off me," I snarl at her. I just want her to go away. Hell, killing me would be better than this. Just get off.

She slams her fist into my jaw and my head snaps to the right so hard I hear my neck crack. Bloody hell that hurts. "Look here, Precious, I make the rules. Me. You do what I tell you. And right now, I'm telling you to tell me who the key is!" She grabs my face, her thumb digging into one cheek, her fingers digging into the other, holding tight enough to break the bones in my face, but not quite doing so. "Tell me!" She jabs a finger from her other hand into my chest - pokin' more holes in me. The pain is damn near unbearable - so much so that I have no choice but to scream. Then everything goes black.

Ah… the black abyss of unconsciousness. If only it would last. It's the only way to block the pain, but it's only temporary.

When I wake up, I'm still on the bed, my pants are still open, but I hurt like hell… and not just from her punches and pokes. Bitch nailed me while I was out - how crude is that? Rode pretty hard from the bruises and pain in m'legs and hips. Shit. I take a quick glance down to m'crotch and bloody hell if she didn't bite me. Hope I don't catch anything. I let m'head fall back onto the bed. I'm not in the most comfortable position, but at least she's not sittin' on me anymore.

Someone remind me to stop doing that…

"Hello, Precious." Someone make her stop calling me that. "All wakey now? Good." She leaps onto the bed and lands straddling m'hips, her hands pressing against the wounds in my chest. "Ready to talk? No? Well, guess we'll just have to play some more. You're pretty good, you know. Even when you're asleep." A wicked, sick smile dances over her face. Bitch thinks she's bad. Hell, all she did was fuck me. That's not 'bad'. _That_, however, is… "Mmm. C'mon, Precious," she cooes, her face hovering over my dick. Shit. "You know you want to play with a god." Superiority complex much? She strokes and pets and grabs and pulls and ow! Dammit. It is attached, you know.

****

Hell-bitch didn't like that 'little Spike' wouldn't play nice, so she strung my ass up, hanging me from the ceiling and started slicing at me with sharp objects. Still told her to sod off. She didn't like my conversation and gave me a kick. Had to drop m'self down a damned elevator shaft, but lucky me, the Slayer (yeah, the real one) showed up to kick some Glory-minion ass and all I had to do was pass out. Bloody hell my body aches. I think I'm in m'crypt, though I'm not sure how I got here. Doesn't much matter really, I'm too bloody tired to care.

****

"Spike?" A soft voice enters the crypt with the dark of night through the open door. Tara, glistening beneath the moonlight because she's painted herself in body glitter, stands with one leg bent and one arm stretched up high along the door. Damn sexy if I could actually see it.

I try to sit up, slowly, and manage to get there - body's stiff from lying here all day. "'Lo, love."

"Oh my God! They… they said you'd been beat up, but they didn't say i-it was this bad." Sexy pose gone, she trots over to me and gently touches a hand to my face. I flinch at her warm fingers on my skin and the slight pain where they met a bruise. "I'm sorry. Oh, I'm so sorry, Spike. Is there anything I can do?"

So sweet. So tender. So nice. Can I keep her? Since I can't have my robot anymore. I shake my head, slowly. "I'm okay, pet."

She shakes her head back at me. "No, you're really not." She brushes a hand over my hair, smoothing it down a bit, or trying to. "God, what did she do to you?" She leans in and kisses me lightly, on the lips. I can't stand it; I pull her to me with one hand, holding my balance with the other and ravage her mouth. I hadn't planned to do it that way, but I need her, now. However she'll give herself. I'll take anything. Damn, I sound so needy. Bugger that - I _am_ sodding needy - just got the ever-livin' shit beat outta me by a hell god. Gimme a sodding break!

Shyly, she pulls away and stares at the floor. "Spike. I-I'm not h-here for that. I just c-came to see how you were."

My hand falls back to the bier, by my side. "Yeah. Probably shoulda asked first."

"Oh, no. It's okay. I just, I just wanted to tell you that, um, that... dammit, Spike." She steps away, turns her back to me. I wish she'd just tell me whatever it is. When she gets all shy-like, mostly, I just get annoyed.

"Tara," my voice cracks and I cough and wheeze and hell, I haven't done that in years. She's near me again, rubbing my back and shoulder; my face and hair. "You don't have to stay. I'll heal. Really."

"I don't want you to be alone."

"Run on back if you need to."

She shakes her head again. "Come on. Get down." She tugs lightly at my arm and tries to support some of my weight as I slide down off the bier. My legs feel like rubber and my head is spinning. "Can you make it to the chair?"

"Think we'd better aim for the floor. Don't think the chair's a viable option just now."

"You always open up your internal thesaurus when you've been used as a punching bag?" she asks, doing a good job of helping me get my very very sore and aching body to the floor.

I grunt and growl and try not to say anything nasty to her as my bruises come in contact with the thin blanket covering the hard concrete floor. "Prevents me from uttering asinine and harmful things to people when I really want them to help me." I squeeze my eyes shut and stiffen my body as best I can and ease my back against the bier. At least I'm sitting up and don't have to use my sore arms to hold me that way. Shit.

"I'll be right back," she says to me and rushes off, back out into the night. Where the hell is she going? And if she's gonna, why'd she leave my ass on the floor? Concrete is not soft and this blanket is older than I am, I think, so it's thinner than paper. Dammit.

True to her word, she returns shortly and she is a goddess! She has a basin of warm water (Where did she get that? Sod it, she's here and that's enough.) and a soft cloth and kneels next to me to begin cleaning my wounds. She's so gentle, so attentive - wiping with the soft cloth, then kissing the scrapes, scratches and cuts that aren't too deep. More kisses to the purple bruises and she's even feeling for broken bones. Thanks, love, but they'll heal on their own. Nothing you can do for 'em.

"Spike," she looks into my eyes, "is there anything else you need?"

"A mattress and a pillow," I grind out through clenched teeth because I just leaned my head back too hard and nearly cracked m'damned skull on the bier. Shit.

"Uh, I did bring a pillow and a blanket, but no mattress. Sorry. D-do you want me to g-get one?"

I shake my head, slowly. "No." I turn to look at her. "You in a hurry to get back, love?" I ask. She shakes her head 'no' and gives me a worried look. "Would you," I look away, lowering my head. "I just, would you... dammit."

"Do you want me to stay here for a while?"

I nod. "Please? Not all night, just for a bit. You can leave whenever you want."

"Yeah, I'll stay." She kisses my temple, my mouth, my nose, my chin, my neck. She doesn't need to do any of that. It's gotten to the point where I can't tell if it's Tara or the demon. Doesn't much matter anymore anyway, she's not gonna come by for the 'fun stuff' anymore - she told me as much.

She helps me lay down, then retrieves the pillow and blanket she brought. Bless her. The only thing better would be if she had the vampire equivalent of ibuprofen - human blood - that I could have. Can't bite her - so that's out. Rest'll do though. She lays down next to me, on her side, more in front of me, I guess, and I drape an arm across her middle. She sidles in close, gently, and whispers something soothing to me. It's nice and moments later, the darkness of sleep comes and it is so very nice.

****

Woke up to an empty blanket. I know I told her she didn't have to stay, but it would have been nice to wake up to a warm body. Anyway - still hurt like hell and wish it would stop, but not much I can do. Bugger this. I'm going back to sleep.


	11. Part XI

Blondie-witch hasn't been by today. Not sure what's going on. It's not odd that she would skip a day or so, but usually I have some idea why she's not stoppin' by. Something going on? Or she finally decide to take me seriously and not come back?

Doesn't much matter now anyway, since Slayer's here… with the Nibblet.

"Uh, I'm guessing there's a reason you've darkened m'doorstep and brought kid-sis along?" I ask before taking a drag from my newly lit cigarette.

Slayer sneers and Nibblet's just kinda cowering behind her. Huh. "Spike, I need you to watch Dawn for a little while."

"Why?"

"I have to go to the hospital for a bit. Tara's there. And why am I even telling you? Please, just watch her."

I frown. Like my time isn't as important as hers. "What if I had plans?"

"Cancel them. I need you to do this."

"I can stay by myself. Geez. I'm not five," Dawn whines from just inside the doorway.

Buffy turns to her. "No. You can't. Not with Glory still looking for you."

"Big help he's gonna be," Nibblet points at me… hey now… "look at him."

"Dawn, this isn't up for discussion. I need to find out what happened to Tara. I'll be back as soon as I'm done." She turns back to me, stalks across the floor and takes a deep breath like she was holding down a swift fist to m'nose. "Spike. I need you to watch her. If it makes you feel better, call it protection. And don't keep her here. Take her into the tunnels. Glory knows about this place."

"Right then. Little adventure. How you gonna find us when you get back?"

"I can track you. Don't worry about me. Just keep her safe."

I nod and she leaves. Bitch. Could've at least said 'thank you' since I'm putting m'self out, here. This is too sodding hard. Do good things - get called on it as doing 'em to get attention. Do bad things - get called on it as being evil, even though I'm a vampire and I'm s'posed to be evil. I quit.

"All right, then, Nibblet. Let's get you someplace that's not here."

"Spike, why didn't you tell Glory about me?" she asks as she follows me down into the tunnels beneath the city.

"What d'you mean?" I ask without turning to face her.

"You could have told her and she would have left you alone."

"Nothing says that's how it would've gone down. Evil doesn't always follow logic, Bit. If I'd told her, she could've just killed me or kept torturin' me just for fun." I stop, turn around and ask, "Why you askin'?"

She shrugs. "Just curious. I guess I just don't understand why you'd do that."

Looks like Slayer wasn't at all forthcoming with the details. Probably told the gang I didn't say anything just so I'd look cool. Because that's the only reason I ever do anything good - to look cool. Slayer's so bloody stupid she wouldn't know help if it smacked her up-side the head.

Nibblet's just lookin' at me. What? You want me to just answer flat out? "Buffy didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" she asks, confused. "She just told us that you didn't say anything. That's it."

"Huh. Shoulda figured." I turn and keep walking. We need to keep moving away from the crypt. Can't have Glory and her mates showin' up to grab me again and find the Nibblet hanging there too.

I hear her behind me, jogging to catch up. "Figured what? What, Spike? Talk to me."

I stop - again - and sigh. "I should've known she wouldn't tell you anything."

"Yeah. Go figure. She _never_ tells me anything. She didn't tell the rest of the gang either, but that's not the point."

"It doesn't matter, Bit. I didn't rat you out, Glory beat me up. Now we're hiding under the city. Slayer'll be back soon and we can go back to our regularly scheduled programming." I walk several steps, ducking and weaving. "Nothin' to be worried about, kid."

Nope. Nothing. Not even a part-demon blonde witch with a thing for bleached vampires. Wish she was here. She was so nice to me yesterday - attending to m'bruises and just talkin' to me. She knows why I didn't tell about the key. She knows what Buffy did too. She's so easy to talk to; guess because she listens. Hope she's gonna be okay.

"No one's gonna hurt you."

"Same no one who did that to you?" she asks in that direct, teenage way she has.

"What? These? It's just a few bruises. Nothin' to write home about." I shift a little, my leg hurts - explains the limp, ya think? "Hey, chin up, platelet. Don't get scared. Maybe Glory doesn't wanna kill you, maybe it's something…"

"Worse?" She looks really scared or worried or something. Dammit.

Well, yeah, it could be worse. What the hell do I know? I'm just a vampire.

****

So, turns out Hell-bitch did a brain-suck on Red's girlfriend. Shit. Why'd she have to do that? Lovely, beautiful, sweet Tara. And Buffy thinks she turned Red away from kickin' Hell-god ass by talkin' to her? Explainin'? She is dumber than I thought.

"So she's not gonna do anything rash then?" I ask, completely dumbfounded by the Slayer's inability to comprehend this situation.

"No. I explained that there was no point." She sounds so sure that she's solved the problem.

I take a couple steps toward her. "Mm-hmm."

"What?" She gives me that look like she thinks I'm stupid.

"You - so you're saying that a powerful and mightily pissed-off witch was plannin' on going and spillin' herself a few pints of god blood until you, what, 'explained'?" See if this sparks something in that blonde brain of hers.

She frowns, looks at the Nibblet then scowls back at me. "You think she'd... no. I told Willow it would be like suicide."

Like that would make a difference in a decision like this. The great Slayer told the pissed-off witch that it would be 'suicidal' to go up against a god? Love makes people do stupid and suicidal things. "I'd do it." The bitch glares at me. I look away, she's not gonna buy this anyway. "Right person. Person I loved." I glance up at her. Maybe she might. "I'd do it."

Nibblet launches into some explanation or scenario that Buffy seems to understand better. Hell, shoulda known that my version wouldn't work. Or maybe it did, Slayer just played it off like she didn't care. She does that. What is wrong with her? Especially after yesterday. I thought… nevermind.

Guess I'm on Nibblet watch a bit longer as Slayer's runnin' off again.

"Spike…"

"Yeah, yeah. Go. Save your friend. I'll be here keeping the Bit company." I wave, tellin' her to go. Just go. Be a hero or whatever it is you do, love.

The Bit and I spend some quality time countin' the rocks or some such rot, waiting for Big Sis to come back. This is so bloody boring. I want to beat something up, kill something, not babysit. And bloody slayer's not even payin' me for this. Should tell her she owes me.

And I kinda miss Tara. Hope she's gonna be okay.


	12. Part XII

Yeah - that was a picnic. Slayer showed up and grabbed her sis, then took off without a word. Not even a bloody 'thank you' for m'trouble. What the hell is wrong with people in this town? Doesn't anyone show gratitude anymore? Bugger.

Now, same bitch slayer is here askin' for m'help in the usual way - which involves smashing my nose in and yellin' at me.

"You know, Slayer, I should tell you to sod off and just leave me alone."

"What? Why? Because I didn't kick your ass for making that ridiculous robot? Spike, I need your help. I'm asking. Can you get us a ride?" She's rather exasperated (isn't that a great word?) and looks a little pissed. All she's gotta do is say the magic word…

I cock an eyebrow at her. "I don't know. Probably not, seeing as how you don't want me doing any 'bad stuff'."

She glares at me and rolls her eyes. "Geezus, Spike. Steal a freaking car or van or whatever. Just make sure it's big enough for everyone to fit. Please?"

Now that wasn't so hard, was it? "Sure. I'll find something. When do you need it?"

"Now would be good. We have to get out of here."

"Right then. I know a guy. Let's go. We've gotta go through the tunnels, o'course."

She sighs and follows me. Should make her apologize for punching me, but doubt she'd do it. Not really important now anyway. Glory chippie's coming up fast and we've gotta move. Believe me, not into another showdown with that one.

****

So, pull up to the curb in the big metal box on wheels and let the kiddies on. Some of the kiddies are grumping because they don't like me as the driver. Get over it. Slayer asked me to work this gig, I'm working.

In fact, she's just told 'em that and stomped off to look at her map in the back. That's my girl.

"Buckle up, kids. Daddy's puttin' the hammer down," I say, pull the protective, if hideous, goggles into place, shift 'er into 'drive' and hit the gas. It's mighty fun to watch all manners of Scoobies rock and sway as we careen down the road here.

Oh bugger, bloody ponce of a Watcher's gripin' about m'driving. "What the bleeding hell do you want?" I ask him and swerve around a slow moving vehicle that looks like it belongs in the Dark Ages.

"Can you at least keep us on a straight path?" Rupert belly-aches.

"Not when the road curves to the left, mate." I just keep driving. Maybe he'll go away.

"Spike, get up. Let me drive. You're going to kill us all with your changing lanes and passing at forty miles over the speed limit." He's pounding on m'shoulder and he's gonna get his neck broken he doesn't stop it.

Damn if they didn't hold a vote and the Watcher won. Shit. Fine. I'll get up, you can bloody drive, Rupert. See how fast we get wherever. "Wheel's all yours," I say and abandon the driver's seat.

"Spike!" Rupert yells and leaps into the seat.

That was good for a laugh and some scowls from some of the passengers. What? I'm evil.

Guess I'll just settle here on the floor away from the sunlight. Sit here next to Nibblet who's probably scared to death, but doing a good job of not showing it. Good on her. Still think I shoulda nicked that Porsche. Now I just have the threat of Harris tossing his cookies. Lovely thought that. 'Least he's up front with the Sunday driver. I can move and sit on an actual seat now - still away from the sun. Don't wanna singe m'self before we get started good.

Look at her. No, not Nibblet, though she's being tough. Tara. She's so frail, so fragile. What did that hell-bitch do to her? She looks so lost. So gone. What happened to her? Where is that wild demon who came to me? Gone now. Opening the curtains and singeing my hand with Mr. Sunshine. Shit. And she's crying in the corner. God this is so hard. And my hand bloody stings.

"She doesn't know what she's doing," Willow says apologetically.

"We know," Nibblet adds. Yes. We know.

"No biggie. Look, the skin's already stopped smoking. You go ahead and play... peek-a-boo with Mister Sunshine all you like. It keeps the ride from getting boring." Back to the corner so I don't get hit with 'Mister Sunshine' again. Bloody hell, that hurt. But I can't be angry with her, I can't. And now she's whining about the light being all gone… what's that? The light's still outside… oh bugger, this must have something to do with the Key. Damn.

Bit's off to chat with Big Sis while the rest of us have to sit here and listen to Harris belly-ache about bein' queasy or whatever. And Slayer's run from the back and is yellin' at the Watcher.

"I see 'em!" he calls back to her.

Huh? "See who?" I'm totally lost. That is, until a freaking arrow slams into the sodding wall near me. "Bloody hell!"

"They're throwing arrows!" Xander squawks. No kidding.

Mad raucous for a few, Nibblet's under the table, Red and Blondie are ducking out of the way and Giles is askin' if we have weapons. I catch the bag of stuff Slayer throws at me and yell back at Watcher, "Hello! You're driving one!"

More griping about not hitting the 'horsies,' oh come on! We can't be worried about the well-fare of the animals when we're about to be cut to ribbons. There's gotta be something in this bag that would be useful. And Slayer needs to stop yelling. If these gits aren't smart enough to stay low when there's danger about, they shouldn't be here. Bloody hell! And, who's the smart one? I'm the one holding a bleeding sword between m'bare hands.

So, Slayer turns around and just stares at me. Little slow on the uptake here, are we? "Now might be a good time for something heroic," I manage between clenched teeth - as in, by the way, this sodding HURTS!

Slayer makes her way onto the roof of the RV and the sodding Knight yanks his sword and rips through m'hands. "OW!" Shit. I dive onto the seat beside Nibblet with a dishtowel. Hands are bleeding and all. Graciously, Little Bit decides to help wrap m'hands up to stem the flow of blood. Huh. Bloody lot of good I'm gonna be now, m'hands all messed up. Bugger.

****

So, Rupert wrecked the transportation, granted it was because he was stabbed with a pike (spear, javelin, whatever you wanna call it, a long pointy stick), but he could've crashed a little softer. Anyway, Slayer's got a great bedside manner, all worried about me and everything. Yeah, thanking me all over the place for not lettin' her get stabbed in the head - NOT. Dammit. Save 'er bloody life and she doesn't even give a damn. She tried to get some info out of Captain Scarface, but not much luck really.

What's that? The screaming and wailing… Red's trying to calm Tara, but I don't think it's working too well. Slayer did manage to get the good doctor to show up and patch up the Watcher. Peachy. Sure, I'll survive, but these cuts really sting. Don't want much, just a little 'Sorry you got your mitts all sliced up. Thanks for keeping that sword outta m'head.' But I can't even get that. I sodding give up. And now I can't even get my cigarette lit. Stupid vampire that I am, grabbin' a sword with m'bare hands.

Harris is helping me? Is this fantasy land? "Thanks."

"You know those things'll kill you?" I have to glare, he's kidding, right? "Oh. Right."

****

That sucks. Ben's bloody Glory and he… she's snatched the Nibblet. That can't be good.


	13. XIII

'Least I can still hot-wire a car. Now we can get the hell out of here and… well… back to Sunnydale so Slayer can do her 'save the world' gig. If she ever snaps out of this trance, or whatever, she's in. Red's havin' no luck snappin' 'er out of it. Guess that means it's my turn. Shake 'er. Shake 'er again. Yell 'er name in 'er face. Bugger. Only thing left is a good slap.

"Ow!" Damn chip. Now buggering Harris is shovin' me across the room. Who does he think he is?

"Are you insane?..." He keeps yammerin'. I yammer back and he bloody hits me. Then the witch gets all pissy and forces us apart without even touchin' us. That's bloody impressive.

****

So, I'm off to take a peek at Glory's flat. See what's the what. Looks like Ben's got a little piece of space here too. Those buggers couldn't figure this whole bit out? Took me damn near twenty minutes to get it through their thick skulls that Ben and Glory are the same git. That must be some strong mojo. Now Harris and I are heading off to talk to Doc about some things and I have to explain to him _again_ about this whole Ben - Glory thing.

"_This_ is gonna be worth it." Really, it is. I smack Harris upside the head and howl in pain because of it. The 'worth it' part - he howls too. Music to m'ears. Now I get to start over again with this whole mess. "Last time. From the top…"

****

That was about as much fun as getting set on fire. Oh, wait, I _was_ set on fire. Well, sort of. Bugger.

"So, what do you s'pose is in the box?" Harris asks. So, the git's got some intelligence in there, after all.

I shrug. "Dunno, but it's gotta be important if Doc was plannin' to destroy it so we couldn't have it." I shift the box's weight a little.

"Think Giles'll have some ideas?"

"Probably." Can he just shut up? I know I have all manners of super-strength and all, but m'hands still hurt and this box isn't heavy, but it's not light either.

"Want some help with that?" he asks, pointing at the box.

Sure, _now_ he bloody asks. "Nah. Got it. Almost there anyway. Come on then."

****

Well, isn't that something? Glory's gonna drain the Nibblet dry to open up a door. That's just bloody well perfect, innit?


	14. Part XIV

Rupert's yammerin' and arguin' with Slayer about this ritual. Anya's scared out of her mind. Red's followin' along pretty well and Harris is just gaping. The usual.

"I have places to be!" Tara shouts. A sudden outburst that attracts some attention for a bit, but just long enough for everyone to turn to look at her. See that she's there. Poor girl. And imagine how Red feels? They had a spat and Tara got her brain sucked out by the hell-bitch. What? You think I don't know what happened? Has nothing to do with my recent 'connection' to Tara, I can just tell. Lovers' quarrell - it's how most tragedies start. Doesn't anyone read anymore?

Harris has an idea or a comment: "Why blood? Why Dawn's blood? I mean, why couldn't it be like a, a lymph ritual?"

He doesn't know anything, does he? "'Cause it's always got to be blood."

"We're not actually discussing dinner right now."

Git thinks he's so bloody funny. "Blood is life, lackbrain. Why do you think we eat it? It's what keeps you going. Makes you warm. Makes you hard. Makes you other than dead." My voice drops, this is serious stuff here, "Course it's her blood." I put the cigarette I'd nearly forgotten about to my lips again. I need the nicotine, even if it doesn't have that much affect on me.

Slayer speaks up now, "Pretty simple math here. We stop Glory before she can start the ritual. We still have a couple of hours, right?"

Rupert hedges a bit, "If my calculations are right. But Buffy…."

Slayer sighs and huffs and throws her arms out. "I don't wanna hear it." She turns away from the little group.

"I understand that…." This argument could go on for a bit.

Slayer whirls back around to face him. "No! No, you don't understand. We are not talking about this."

Ripper's out now. Rupert leaps to his feet and yells, "Yes, we bloody well are!"

This should be good. Now that we're 'bloody well' talkin' about this. Or arguin' about it, or whatever we're doing. Mostly, I’m just sittin' here watchin' the slayer and her watcher have it out about killin' the Nibblet if Glory gets a good start on her ritual.

"I love you all, but I'm sorry," I hear the Slayer say. What is she talking about?

Anya's screamin' something. Sod her. "Uh," I raise m'hand in the air, "when you say you love us all…."

"Shut up!" Rupert and Harris snarl together at me. Bloody team up on me why don't you. Was just askin' a question.

****

So, Anya rambled on for a while coming up with 'outside the box' ideas and now I'm on 'follow the Slayer' home duty. What is going on? I mean, Nibblet's hell-knows where about ready to be bled dry; Tara's got nearly nothing of herself left inside her head; and Slayer's about nutty as a fruitcake, wanting to take on this Glory-bitch with a glowy sphere and a hammer.

Guess she could've had one hell of a pep-talk with Watcher about something and she got some ideas from Red. Heard 'em talkin' about spells and stuff.

Tara. What to do about her. No, not Red. Me. I should apologize for using 'er like I did. Nah, come on, figure I'm gonna die, should at least own up to the shit I've done. I did use 'er. So what if she was half-demon and mostly responsible for most of what we did. I didn't have to let her. I could have made her leave and told all her little Scooby pals about the demon bits and got her all cured and such. Didn't. Why? Shit. Slayer's why. Wanted her. That's all. Just the Slayer. Just wanted her to notice, pay attention, show that she cared or something. Anything but treat me like dirt and shove my nose into the ground. Guess yellin' at me and tellin' me to come with is better than her beatin' me up for information or help. Closest I'm gonna get I s'pose.

She opens the door and walks into the house, yammerin' on. I stop on the porch, just outside the lovely threshold barrier. "Uh, Buffy…" I wave a bit at her when she turns around and she just looks at me, confused. "If you wanna just hand 'em over the threshold, I'll…"

"Come in, Spike," she says softly, her face mostly blank. There's something there. Not love - 'course not that. Not even like. Just, something that I can't figure.

Huh. She let me in. So, that's different. "Hmm. Presto. No barrier." Just a look. This is uncomfortable. Gonna get some stuff then. "Um, won't bother with the small stuff. Couple of good axes should hold off Glory's mates while you take on the lady herself."

****

St. Crispin's Day speech it wasn't, but got the job done. We're off to… bloody hell. What is that? Tower up into the sky and that doesn't even begin to look like fun.

So, I get hit with a brick, do some ass kickin', or was that the other way around? Either way - now I'm being sent up to the tip-top of this bleeding tower to see what's going on with Nibblet… and damn if it isn't the good 'Doc'. Sorry bastard should know better than to mess with what I've promised to protect.

"Spike!" Dawn shrieks.

Bugger. Doc's got me pinned and this is looking bad - real bad. A thousand thoughts and images are flying through m'skull just now... Dru siring me, killing two slayers, coming to Sunnydale, everything that's happened since then - Tara, the Bot, Glory, all of it - and what she said to me earlier tonight. It's all flying by pretty fast, then I hit the ground - hard. I mean really hard. Hard enough to bounce and slam my head into the pavement and rocks. And the only thing in my head is that Nibblet's still up there, with Doc, and there's no one to save her but Buffy...

****

I passed out there. When I came to, Buffy was lying, her body mangled, on a pile of debris. I didn't learn until later that she had jumped to save the Nibblet. If only I'd been faster or something. Tara told me what happened. I don't know why she thought she needed to be the one to tell me. She wasn't part demon anymore. Something happened when Red reassembled Tara's mind. I'm not sad about that. Not angry or upset. I'm actually happy for Tara and sorry that things had gone the way they did over the last few months. She came to me after the funeral - the one I couldn't get myself to go to - it was just too painful for me - she came to me and just talked. She doesn't remember us being together and I've never mentioned it when she's here. I tell her how I miss Buffy and about my dreams - about saving her - finding a way so that Doc can't shove me off that tower and doesn't get to hurt Dawn. Tara listens. She's always been very good at that - listening.

And now, I have to tell her about the night I walked with Buffy back to her house to get weapons for the big fight...

Thinkin' back on what she said to me - Buffy, that is - when we went to the house to get stuff…

_"We're not all gonna make it. You know that," she told me._

_"Yeah." Already knew that one, love, just wish it hadn't been you. I grabbed some stuff and walked toward her. "Hey. Always knew I'd go down fightin'."_

_"I'm counting on you ... to protect her."_

_"Till the end of the world. Even if that happens to be tonight." Love, you didn't have to tell me that. I would've done it. Wish it hadn't gone down like it did though._

_"I'll be a minute."_

_"Yeah." I watched her turn to go up the stairs. But I had to tell her something. "I know you'll never love me." She stopped and looked back at me, not angry that I said anything, not anything really. Just listening. "I know that I'm a monster. But you treat me like a man. And that's…." She just gazed at me, said nothing. "Get your stuff, I'll be here." And she turned and made her way up the stairs._

It was horrid. "That was about the last thing I said to her before…"

Tara puts her soft, slender, gentle hand on the side of my face and smiles softly up at me. "Spike," she says my name so sweetly, so peacefully, how does she do that? "You know she knows how you feel. You've told her. It doesn't matter that she doesn't love you. She knows what you did. You tried. It's the best you could have done."

I shake my head, her hand still touching my face. "No. You don't understand. I could have done a million other things. Better, faster, more cunning - anything. I could have done more," my voice cracks and I want to kick myself for being weak. I try hard not to let the tears flow, but it doesn't work. I sink to the floor, kneeling before Tara, my eyes closed tight.

She pulls me to her, pressing my face against her stomach. Sweet, sweet Tara. So soft and still smelling of flowers or spices. She doesn't love me either, but she cares about everyone - no matter who they are. Anyone in pain is worthy of her tenderness - at least to her anyway. "Spike, it's okay. She knows you did what you could. Have you visited her?" she asks and I snarl as I look up at her. What the bleeding hell is she talking about? Buffy's dead. I can't visit her. She smiles down at me now. "Spike, her grave. Have you been there? You can go and talk to her. I don't know if she can hear you, but it might help."

I rock back on my heels and look up at her. "I don't want to go. I can't." I lower my head.

"Why not?" She's frowning at me, I can tell by the tone of her voice.

"It seems wrong somehow. I failed and shouldn't be allowed to mourn. I have to suffer."

She snorts. "Martyr-complex much? Get over this stupid shit, Spike. Go talk to Buffy."

I stare up at her, stunned out of my mind. "Excuse me?" She glares down at me. "I thought the demon was gone."

Now I can see her frowning at me. "What demon? What are you talking about? I'm not a demon. And that's not the point. Stop changing the subject. You should go talk to Buffy."

"Uh huh. And you started talking like this when?"

"About the time you started to get so stubborn. Spike, I'll help you, but you have to help a little yourself." She steps forward and strokes a hand over my hair. "I'm going to see Buffy. You coming?"

"Yeah." I nod and push to my feet. This is not at all how I planned this to go. Had a plan, really. Was going to get pissed as hell and stay that way for a good solid week. Then was gonna take up demon hunting with the Scoobies and keep and eye on the Little Bit. Crazy little blondie witch mucked that up like you wouldn't believe.

She puts her arm through mine and we walk to Buffy's grave. It's a lot harder than I thought it was gonna be and I can't even make it to the foot of the site iteslf before my face is so wet I can hardly see straight. Tara's here though. Helping. Kneeling with me, rubbing my back and saying nothing. Just being here. I'm not saying anything either - I can't. My voice won't work. So I just cry. And sod off. She's the bleeding Slayer for cryin' out loud. She's what I bloody wanted and could never sodding have. Now she's gone - forever.

  


End


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